Ascension
by Niknakz93
Summary: :AU: Running away with your brother and his band of famous, but obnoxious rockstars isn't all it's cracked up to be. Fame is a dangerous beast. Wild and unpredictable. And so is Jace Herondale. But how can you love a boy that's desired by millions and acts not quite human? -Clace- R&R?
1. Beginnings

_I've actually had this idea in my head for months, but the right plot line just wouldn't appear. With Untamed and Of Seraph Blades And Ball Gowns coming to an end within a few chapters or so, I thought I'd kick this off now I've smoothed over the storyline. I should add that Jace and Jonathan are 19 in this, Clary and Isabelle are 18. Alec is 20._

_First of all, it's AU as usual. I mean... isn't AU fantastic? You can have so much fun with it with no boundaries! With this story, it's darker than usual. If you read my other fics, you'll probably know what this one will be about. Or should I say, information about Jace that's hinted at in the summary. But not in the way you'd think since there are no Shadowhunters in this and it's pretty much AH. Also a new point of view the entire story. And it's Clace, of course. Clace is so fun to write. And yep, this story is rated M. Because these boys sure aren't innocent angels. The next update for Untamed might be up tomorrow if I get some free time to write. Fingers crossed._

_I hope you guys like this idea and drop me some reviews. If there's enough people interested in reading more, I'll continue._

_Are you all ready for rocker Jace?_

* * *

_**Ascension**_

Was that a cat being strangled, or a car slamming on its brakes?

Neither of the above. It was my friend Simon and his band. Why the hell they had named their band the _Murderous Hamsters_, I actually had no idea. Simon insists it's because it's "catchy." Catchy? My ass it was. Sounds more like a pet store on fire.

Mom and Dad were out on their anniversary dinner, and Simon's garage was flooded. Eric had attempted to fix the washing machine apparently. Attempted being the operative word. Yeah… that hadn't ended well. The place now had an indoor swimming pool full of soap suds. Poor Simon's mom. That was the reason they were set up in the living room with the dark red leather sofas pushed against the wall, TV unplugged, replaced with the speakers Eric had bought over.

Simon flicks his hair back now, and a section catches him in the eye, causing him to swear and raise a hand to brush it away. Annnd he misses his cue for the chorus because his hand is nowhere near the strings. And he drops his pick. Ha.

"What the hell!" Eric growls, a crash of cymbals as the music's cut off sharply, the last few strums of the guitar fading away. He's swelling up like a bullfrog. "Why did you stop?! We were on a roll!"

Simon smoothes his hair back, looking disgruntled. Maybe this would convince him that long hair wasn't for him. He'd grown it out just for the ladies, hoping that long hair and a rocker status would pull them in. So far? The count was zero. A pitiful, round fat zero.

"My finger slipped" Simon shoots at Eric, sending me a look that clearly means '_don't you dare say anything.' _I wasn't planning to; they'd shave all of Simon's hair off if they knew that it was stopping band practice. Bald Simon?

I'd walk down the street pretending not to know him.

The speakers whine as Simon tugs a little too hard at the cables. Suddenly, Eric dives and turns the microphone off. His eyes are wide as he turns them to the window- there's a flash of car headlights coming up along the drive. Someone was home.

Crap. _Crap._

I shove Simon out of the way as I run over to the nearest speaker, but it's as tall as I am. Goddamn it. If it was mom and dad home early, I was dead. No, more than dead. I'd be blasted into smithereens, then blown into space. Technically known as grounded forever for letting them practice here without telling them or asking for permission. Though how it would work with me rarely leaving the house, I have no idea. Would dad lock me in the dunge- I mean basement?

When the front door opens with a clatter, we all hold our breath as if we've suddenly become invisible and the danger would pass as long as we carried on being mute.

Simon breathes a sigh of relief as he sees my brother who's promptly stopped dead in the doorway at the sight of us, an eyebrow raised. "I could hear your shit halfway down the road," Jonathan tells Simon coldly, then turns on me. He looks tired with his dark eyes sporting shadows underneath them. His white blond hair wasn't perfectly in place like it usually was, but windswept and awry.

Jonathan was everything Simon and the rest of _Murderous Hamster _dreamed of; part of a popular rock band that toured all over the world. _The Shadowhunters. _

Unlike Simon's screechy band, the one Jonathan was in didn't practice in garages. Well, once upon a time they had.

Jonathan chuckles as I throw myself at him, hugging him. He pats my back twice, saying tiredly into my ear, "hey there little sister. Missed me? It's only been two weeks."

I pull away with a grin on my face. "How was San Francisco?"

"Loud," Jonathan replies, turning away. Another clatter and I see the limousine driver carrying in his two cases, setting them down in the hallway. My brother never traveled light. Last time he'd gone on a gig to another state, he'd stolen my bloody hair straighteners. Dad had called him gay when he'd seen the photos of his son with dead straight hair. Jonathan had never touched my straighteners again. Unfortunately, dads words had gotten out, and soon the social networks were full of crying girls. Yes, sobbing over the fact Jonathan was gay. He wasn't gay. Hell, far from it. I could attest to that from the amount of girl's he bought home whenever our parents were out. Soundproof walls. I need them.

My brother slips the driver a few notes and goes to close the door, but stops. Instead of shutting it, he calls "leave. Now. I already have a banging headache."

Simon, Eric and the rest of the band were staring. Almost drooling in Eric's case. _The Shadowhunters_ were their idols. The reason they'd put the band together in the first place. Face to face with Jonathan like this? I was shocked Eric hadn't begged him for an autograph yet. Maybe he was scared. I would be if I was him.

"Right away" Eric splutters, grabbing at the nearest instrument. The guitar falls to the floor with a crash. Jonathan rolls his eyes, picking up his guitar case and a bag. I walk over and pick up the other, following him up the dark maroon carpeted stairs.

"So," my brother starts, heaving his case up another step. "I go on a trip with the guys, mom and dad go out, and you invite the wailing choirboys over?"

"They're not that bad," I reply in an exasperated voice. It's true. They're not _that _bad. Just… not that good. That didn't even make sense.

Jonathan shoves the door to his bedroom open with his shoulder, carrying his cases to the large bed shoved up against the window. It's black and white, my brother's room. Devoid of colour except for the posters on the wall. They show a group of four people- my brother on the far right with his guitar, snowy hair falling into his midnight eyes. On his right is the drummer, Alec Lightwood. Damn did he have the bluest eyes you've ever seen. And at the front was his sister Isabelle with her long midnight locks. She sung like an angel. An avenging angel.

And then there was Jace Herondale. Tall, long ragged aureate hair that fell into his eyes that were like pools of liquid gold? He was the lead guitarist and singer.

He was hot. With a capital H.

In this picture, he was staring directly ahead at the camera with the microphone at his lips, hands grasping it before him like a prayer. That mouth of his was a smirk that made his eyes light up like a demon. A demon that could make even the sweetest of angels fall from high and crash down to earth.

And when Jace sang… well, bye ovaries. They blew instantly. Mine had gone caput the moment I'd heard him play a year ago when the band truly became popular. Then I avoided the music videos and photoshoots of him like the plague, but I did yield and look now and again at the photos of him. He was easy on the eye after all. You couldn't avoid hot guys forever.

Maybe I did have a little crush on Jace Herondale, but I'd never admit it. My brother would laugh himself hoarse, and then lock me up in my room and warn me to stay away from his band mate and best friend. I'd never even met the guy. Overprotective brothers suck.

Jonathan collapses onto the bed now, groaning lightly up at the ceiling. "Home" he sighs out. "Oh how I have missed thee."

"Are you Shakespearian now?" I ask, unable to resist. Jonathan raises his hand above his head, baring his middle finger. So rude.

A bang downstairs and Jonathan growls from his place on the bed "if they've scratched the wooden flooring, I'm going to set them on fire."

Also, my brother is pretty violent minded. In High School, he used to get into fights all the time. The incident no one at his old High School would forget was the time he was in Freshman year. The teacher had called Jonathan's guitar playing skills rubbish… so my brother had promptly taken the guitar to the teacher's face and broken his nose.

He'd been kicked out for that stunt. It was only through our father's assurance that he'd never do anything of the sort again that they let him back in.

"They wouldn't dare" I snort. "They'd be terrified that dad would find them. You know what dad would do."

"That I do" Jonathan mused. He sounds bored almost, playing with the necklace around his neck. At the end of the silver chain is the bands symbol. It's like a diamond with two hooks at the top. Jonathan called it a rune. Angelic something. There was a whole bunch of them, all different in design.

Jonathan sits up now, pulling his sleek dark leather case towards him. After popping the locks, I catch sight of his baby. His pure white electric guitar. After patting it twice, he carefully takes it out and gets to his feet, walking over to the stand next to the windows with the black blinds pulled closed. After setting the instrument down, my brother turns back to me. "I need a shower. And my bed." Jonathan wanders forwards, kicking off his boots as he goes, nudging them into a somewhat neat position next to the door. After patting my head as he passes, he yanks his shirt off over his head and just drops it onto the floor. Scruffy little shit.

I just stare at his back, eyes widening. Holy shit dad was going to go _insane._

"Is that a new tattoo?"

Jonathan stops dead. He raises a hand over his shoulder, knowing straight away what I was talking about. "Mmhmm" he mutters, not moving as I cross over to get a better look at the newest tattoo adorning my brothers body.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. "Dad is going to _castrate you._"

Upon his back is a pair of angel wings. No joke. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, there's a tribal design of angel wings. All stark black against the paleness of his skin. In the middle of the wings where it curled down slightly was an M with a small pattern of stars around. The Morgenstern family crest.

"How drunk were you?" I can't help but ask. Jonathan doesn't reply straight away, but when he does, it's like he's trying not to laugh. "Fucking hammered. But come on, doesn't it look good? As soon as it's healed over completely, that baby is going to look amazing. Jace got one too."

"Idiots" I breathe, poking at his back. Dad had almost thrown Jonathan out when he'd seen the words _Acheronta Movebo _tattooed upon his left forearm. In Gothic style lettering? It was perfectly rocker-ish.

Dad hadn't seen it that way. He'd called Jonathan a disgrace, and then tried to make him get laser removal. No dice. My brother had kept the tattoo, wearing tight black t-shirts that showed it off just to piss him off.

When dad saw this one, he was going to give birth to live elephants, have a seizure, die, and then come back as a ghost to piss my brother off some more.

Personally, I thought it looked cool. My brother was a rocker. Heart and soul.

"Well I'm leaving again soon" Jonathan groans, turning around to face me. Ew. Half naked brother alert. Not nice. "We've got the _Alicante_ tour coming up next week." His dark eyes were sparkling with excitement. "Little sister, it's everywhere. London, LA, that music festival and…" he frowned, looking thoughtful. And then he laughs. I like it when my brother laughs. He's way too serious all the time in front of everyone else. "I can't remember! There's so many locations and dates. Isn't it amazing? This time last year, we were just a group practicing in the Lightwood's garage. Scrabbling to book dates at _Taki's _and _Java Jones._"

"And then Magnus Bane heard your screeching and now I have a dickhead rocker for a brother."

Jonathan grins like a Cheshire cat, placing a hand on my shoulder. He even leans down so we're at eye level. Rude. Not my fault I'm so short. "Well Short Stuff, I don't hear you complain when you get gifts. You know… like those Tisch things. The classes. Your easel and other boring art stuff."

I cluck in disapproval. "Art is not boring Jonathan. We just have different tastes. I like listening to calm music, you scream loud music."

"Actually it's Jace that does most of the screaming, not me."

I punch his arm for that, scoffing as I turn away.

Yeah, I did owe a lot to my brother. It was because of the money he bought in, plus dad's job at_ Morgenstern Motors_ that we lived so well. Those flashy, over the top cars you see on the roads that only celebrities can afford? Yeah, he makes them. Well, not makes. He runs the business, keeping everything flowing and selling well. Always busy, it was rare the entire family was altogether in one spot for more than a day. With Jonathan out across the country promoting his band and performing, mom traveling around the world selling her artwork and other famous pieces, dad somewhere over the rainbow locked up in a boardroom with a bunch of boring people that only thought about business, it was a lonely life when it was just me and the occasional maid hired to clean and trim the hedges. Plus keep an eye on me for my mother and father. They denied it, but I knew that was the other reason she was there.

"Why don't you come this time?" Jonathan asks, yawning widely after. He'd probably been traveling all day and into the night. It was just gone ten now with the sky outside pitch black.

I know what he means; accompany him on his tour.

Yeah… not happening.

"No thanks"

Jonathan's voice is curious as he asks "Why?"

I wrinkle up my nose, leaning across the banister to face him as he stands before the bathroom. "The idea of spending months traveling around in a tour bus that smells like sex-"

"The tour bus does not smell like sex." Jonathan looked indignant. "People actually like to shower after getting laid, did you know that?"

Half naked brother stood before me talking about sex? No, no, god no! Ew!

I choose to not to comment on the sex… things. "I haven't even met them. The others in your band. Pretty sure they wouldn't welcome me with open arms." Actually I had no idea.

Jonathan folds his arms, looking like a little brat, not a nineteen year old guy. Then again, he never has grown up. If you look under his bed you can see a Pokémon figure shoved inside an old grey sock. He even has a Pikachu onesie. I mean… _a Pikachu onesie._

What. Were girls into guys that secretly wore a bright yellow jumpsuit to bed? It even had a hood complete with ears, red cheeks and a _fucking tail._

Excellent blackmail material if ever I needed it.

"They'd love you," Jonathan tells me, arms still folded. "They like small adorable things."

"This 'small adorable thing' bites."

Jonathan scowls, his shadowy eyes darkening even more. "Just… God Clary! Do you even give a fuck? Not once have you ever come to hear me play. Supported my life choices. Most people would feel lucky to have someone like me as their brother. You? Oh no. With you, it's 'let's ignore Jonathan, then pretend I love him when he comes back home after working his fucking ass off.'"

That hurt. It really bloody hurt.

"I do care," I reply quietly. Jonathan just glared as if I'd broken his guitar. "Just because I don't go to your concerts or tours, it doesn't mean I don't care. The band scene isn't for me." I'd listened to one or two of their songs. That counted right?

"How would you know?" he spits. "You've never even tried. Ever since you finished High School, you just stay here at home, shut up in your room painting your little pictures and hanging around with that… _slug _that can't even strum properly. You're so boring."

I bristle up at that. "Don't insult Simon. You don't know him."

"I don't want to know him. He and his _Killer Chipmunks_ or whatever they're called can't sing. They can't play to save their lives. You shouldn't build up their hopes when you know how much they suck."

Where the hell had this come from? Jonathan was never _this _moody. At least, not with me.

"What am I supposed to do if I even agreed to go on tour with you, huh?" there's nothing. And I refuse to become a maid for them.

Jonathan rolls his eyes once more before saying in the most annoying voice ever, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Have _fun. _You know what fun is outside this godforsaken place?"

"You can take your fun and shove it up your ass wrapped in barbed wire." Okay, I'm pissed off. Really pissed off. Jonathan just flips me off and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him with enough force to make the frame rattle.

When I shut my bedroom door, I rest my forehead against it, staring at the soft tan wooden floor. Boring. I was so boring. Jonathan was right.

"Score one to the big headed rockstar" I found myself muttering, tapping a finger against the door twice. Our family hadn't been a family in years. It was too broken. Too shattered. The affair mom had had with dad's best friend had started it all.

Two years ago, mom had hooked up with dad's right hand man at _Morgenstern Motors, _Luke Garroway. Dad found out and went ballistic. Well and truly. Kicked mom out instantly, started filing for divorce.

And that was when Jonathan had started to really get into his music, putting together _The Shadowhunters_ with Jace after school. It was also when dad had stopped working from home, leaving for days at a time. Even weeks.

A year later, and they'd gotten back together. But things had never been the same since. Dad didn't trust mom much, but he still loved her. God, he loved her like crazy. Always would, no matter what she did.

I never did find out why mom had cheated. Jonathan knew, but he refused point blank to tell me. No one would tell me. Didn't they trust me?

The answer to that was No.

Life had slowed down so much since I'd graduated High School and opted not to go to pursue higher education just yet. I was content to stay in the Morgenstern mansion with my canvas, paints and brushes. Plus the occasional visit to _Java Jones _or_ Taki's _to hear Simon play, and then ignore people who realized who I was- Jonathan Morgenstern's sister. Famous Jonathan Morgenstern and his amazing guitar skills. Guys would offer to buy me drinks, take me out for dinner. But I would decline them. All of them. Why? They didn't want me. They only wanted to get to Jonathan. To _The Shadowhunters._

I was just a simple tool to them, the fame grabbing assholes. They'd quite happily break my heart in their attempt to get noticed by the band. Another reason I didn't care to watch my brother's performances. I didn't want to get involved with that world.

Why were people such monsters? How could they condone it?

Before changing for bed I slipped downstairs and shoved all the sofas back into position since the boys didn't do it themselves, sighing exhaustedly afterwards. Everyday it was the same old routine; wake up, eat breakfast, paint, paint, maybe see Simon, maybe listen and half watch his performances, maybe comment a little, and maybe compliment, return home, eat dinner, paint or read before bed, then sleep.

The next day? Rinse and repeat.

Boring. Like Jonathan had said.

My brother would leave his offer on the table right until the last moment right before I left, I knew him. I still had time to decide. Choose.

Decide if I wanted to be Boring Clary… or Interesting Clary.

**-Review :D**


	2. Elements

**Thanks so much for the lovely feedback, alerts and faves. So here's chapter number two! Came out a lot longer than I was planning, oops. But who cares? More to read. And love, hopefully. Also… let's play a little game; what's the name of the song from the beginning? First person to get it right gets it right gets a snippet of the next chapter in their inbox! Anyway, thanks again for the interest. Leave me some more reviews? X**

* * *

It's music that wakes me up. Specifically, my brother's singing. The sound of his old acoustic guitar fills the air too, emanating from the room next door. I lie there listening to the rise and fall of Jonathan's singing without moving an inch. As the first song ends, and another begins, I pull myself up and tug a bottle green dressing gown around me.

When I say Jonathan's bedroom is 'next door,' I mean halfway down the hall and around a corner. The mansion is that big you can get lost. I still did at times.

The front of my brother's bedroom is covered in band photos, posters and memoirs. Dad had hated them all inside his room and demanded he move them. So Jonathan had.

Dad hadn't been amused. He'd tried to peel a poster off, but it merely ripped the paint off from how strong the glue my brother had stuck it on with. He still glared at them as he passed in the corridor, but more or less stopped complaining about them now.

Jonathan's sat on his mahoosive black leather bean bag in the corner of the room next to the window, ankles crossed and strumming at his guitar. I don't recognize the lyrics of the song he's singing. If it's his own song, a band song or someone else's, I have no idea. But it's beautiful. My brother has a talent where he can sing the most pounding, most rocking of songs that make your heart jump out of your chest, but also those tender songs where you can feel the emotion in every note. Every single word.

_I'm alive_

_Even though a part of me has died_

_You take this heart and breathe it back to life_

_I fall into your arms open wide_

For the duration of the song, I lounge in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Jonathan's fingers are our mothers. Long and slim, made for the taught strings of his guitars, both electric and acoustic. Mine are shorter. Artistic in the way of the paintbrush. Jonathan's hands created music.

With a yawn he sets the instrument down upon the bed. Jonathan never makes his bed. Or his room. It's basically a shithole where you have to jump over shoes, jeans, music books and –heaven help me– underwear. Jonathan was notorious for leaving his freaking underwear everywhere.

Except when dad was around. Because dad, being dad, tossed stray ones he found upon the floor in the bin or on the fire.

"New song?" I ask, sounding more interested than I should have been. But the argument we'd had the previous night was fresh in my mind and to have Jonathan mad at me… I didn't like it.

My brother shakes his head. "Nah, not this one. This belongs to another band. _MercyMe_ they're called."

"Well it's a pretty song. Suits your voice."

Jonathan rolls his eyes, turning his gaze on me. "Are you trying to sweet talk me after last night?"

Busted. I shrug. "I'm just saying… you have never come to my art exhibitions before. Never once come to any of my stuff."

My brother shrugs. "Fine. I guess we're as bad as each other." With a groan he pulls himself to his feet, cracking out a kink in his neck. Disgusting.

"Well I'm off out" he tells me now, reaching for a boot. After grabbing the first, he frowns as he realizes the other one isn't there. I roll my own eyes, turning around towards the door where I'd seen the other, asking "where are you going?"

"Elements Headquarters" he groans, catching the boot as I toss it to him. "Radio Q and A, then an interview with Firelight magazine. Man I hate live Q and A's. It's not questions, just girls giggling down the phone saying 'Jonathan, do you have a girlfriend?' or 'Jonathan you're so hot.' I won't mention the threesome comments."

I shudder internally. "No, please don't."

As Jonathan ties his shoelaces, I ask hesitantly "can I come?"

His hands pause at his laces, glancing up at me. He looks curious. "Did I just hear correctly, Clarissa?"

"Are you going deaf? I wouldn't be shocked with how loud you play your music on those headphones."

He smiles sarcastically, tying off his shoelaces and standing up. Jonathan towers over me. When we were in school, people would never believe we were siblings from how different we looked. Jonathan was all black and white. And me? I was colorful with orange hair, green eyes and more freckles than you could count.

"Sure you can come" Jonathan replies, trying and failing to hide his enthusiasm. "Not in the interview though. That's just for the band, so you'll have to sit outside or on the side and stay quiet. Oh and you can meet the guys." A pause and he hurriedly adds. "And girl. Izzy would kill me if I called her a guy."

I liked this Izzy. She had fire and spirit.

"How about we make a stop at _Taki's _and pick up some blueberry and white chocolate muffins for them all?" I suggest. Jonathan starts laughing, clapping me on the shoulder. "Treat Jace like that and he'll hire you as his personal muffin deliverer."

"That sounds rude" I note. Jonathan looks thoughtful as he reaches for his black leather jacket that's slung over the top of his bedroom door. "Jace is a rude person" he admits. "And I don't mean language wise either."

Oh how lovely (!) I should have guessed. No one can be that hot without having some flaws.

Jonathan nods to me. "Hurry up and brush your hair, mountain man. You've got about ten minutes before we have to shoot. Gotta be there early to sign documents and all that hoohah."

I don't give him time to finish as I run.

As I drag a brush through my hair, I try to remember the last time me and my brother had gone out together like this. I couldn't remember. It had been way too long.

When we'd been kids he'd sneak me out of the house though. We would go up to the park together. I'd sit on the bench and watch as he swung higher and higher on the swing. He'd never fall off though. As we knew older, he'd show off to those watching by swinging himself backwards and forth while stood up upon the seat. It was through this that he discovered he was rather athletic. By age fourteen he could do back flips off the swing at the very pinnacle of his swing. And then front flips.

I bet he was flippy on stage. He had a large audience to watch him now.

A beep echoes from the front of the mansion and I roll my eyes- he had no patience. At the very last moment I change my flats to a pair of sunset orange wedge heels to try and make me taller.

Jonathan's car is his second child. A 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. The body colour is a deep dark red. The hood is black and currently down, bright morning sun glinting off his hair like a shiny new silver coin.

My brother lowers his sunglasses as I shut the door behind me and make my way over. Ray Ban's of course. Jonathan had expensive taste when it came to fashion. "Are you," he starts slowly, taking in my appearance with an eyebrow raised. "Are you wearing a dress-? Are my eyes okay?"

"Got a problem with that?" I retort pleasantly, pulling the car door open and sitting down next to him. Jonathan sniggers and pushes his sunglasses back up his nose with a finger. "And heels," he notes. "Someone's trying to make an impression."

"I just want to look nice," I snap now. "Is that okay? Or should I go back inside and come out in a black plastic bin bag?"

Jonathan nods to me, ignoring my words. "You look like a ball of sunlight in that." He guns the engine and I swear I hear him moan at the roar. What is it with guys and cars that turns them on so much?

The gates open automatically for us as we pass through them, and my gaze lingers on them a little too long to be normal. Automatic wrought iron gates were for the rich and famous in my eyes.

_Jonathan _is _rich and famous, _a voice inside my head reminds me. _Your mother is famous as an artist. And your father? He's famous for his cars._

And then there was me. Ordinary, boring Clary. Known for nothing except being related to the rest of my family.

We do stop at _Taki's _and I slip out, buying half a dozen of their really rather excellent blueberry and white chocolate muffins. When I head back outside with the box, I spy Jonathan still parked in the same place. But he wasn't alone.

A pair of girls, teenagers really, stand before him. I can see Jonathan smiling and nodding. He's handing something back to the pair. Something that makes them squeal 'thank you.'

As I draw closer, I hear my brother telling them "you just drop me a tweet that you were the lovely ladies that I met here and I'll give you a follow later on. Me and my sister must be off now though."

The girls turn at that, staring at me as if they're a pair of squirrels who've found a golden nut. Or that fat kid in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory had found another Wonka bar hidden under his fat rolls.

"You're pretty" the blonde girl tells me. She can't be more than thirteen. "Your freckles are so cute."

The compliments take me aback. The girl isn't lying, I can tell it from her face. The smile was real.

I can see Jonathan out of the corner of my eye raising an eyebrow as I open the muffin box and offer the box to them "There's one to spare and I'm not hungry."

They look beyond shocked, but take one each. It's almost cute the way they splutter out their thanks. "We really have to go now" I tell them, shutting the muffin box. "Can't let my brother be late for his interviews now, can we?"

"You've just made two fans for life, you know?" Jonathan tells me in amusement as I sit back down beside him with the muffin box on my knees. I cast a glance behind me as we roll off- the girls are still stood there, watching us go with massive grins on their faces. "Fans of yours?" I ask and Jonathan nods. "But if you ask me, there's a fine line between fans and fangirls. You do get some crazy chicks."

"What do you mean by crazy?" I ask, eyebrow going up. "They come to more than one concert?"

Jonathan snorts in laughter. "Nah. The crazy, hardcore fans are the ones that do that, plus tweet you every single day hoping you'll follow them."

Ah. Twitter.

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"And then you have ones that follow us around. And I mean literally." Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Once in Manchester, way across the pond, we stayed in a hotel and a girl got past security and knocked on our room door. She wasn't major insane like those that run after us though. Amanda her name was." He looked thoughtful. "She'd bought us things. And asked if we could sign her shirt and things for her friends."

"Did you sign it all?"

Jonathan nodded. "Course' I did. She'd bought us these leather cuffs with our names on-" he held up his left hand and I saw a strip of wide dark brown leather with the silver words 'Jonathan' printed onto it around his wrist. It looked professional. Expensive.

Wow. "She really was lovely."

Jonathan snorted with laughter. "So lovely that Jace slept with her."

Okay. I hadn't been expecting that. "Does he sleep with fans often? Can he even do that?"

My brother coughed, failing to hide a laugh. "Jace is Jace. You can't stop him."

And now I wondered something. My eyes narrowed. "Have _you _slept with any of the fans?"

"Of course not."

"I hope you used protection. Dad would jump off a building if you knocked up a _fangirl._"

Jonathan shot me a glare. I look away, trying not to snigger. I knew my brother too well at times.

When we pull into the parking lot, I see a gaggle of girls sat outside the venue. _More fans? Holy shit. They're everywhere. _

Jonathan raises the hood of his beloved car and gets out, pausing just long enough for me to shut the door and walk over to him.

I half expect him to pause and smile, sign things for the fans waiting. But he doesn't. He pushes past them all, announcing loudly "sorry, haven't got time." I keep a tight hold of the muffin box as we step into Elements Headquarters.

Almost instantly I hear a- "You are so _fucking late! For god's sake!_" the owner of the voice is a tall young man with honey colored hair that hung in his matching aureate eyes. Those same eyes narrowed as they saw me. "And who let the bloody fangirls in?! Get out."

I cast a glance behind me- wait. Was he talking about _me?_

"Whoa," I just laugh, looking around for my brother for help, but he's already been yanked away towards a room. Something about getting him mic'ed up because he was late. "Me? I'm Clary. Jonathan's sister."

Jace in his photos and posters had been hot, but in real life? He was scorching. Even if he was rude. He was wearing black jeans that made me wonder that if he got a boner, would you be able to tell from how tight they were. I was betting on No. His t-shirt was black too, sporting the word 'MUSE.' A band t-shirt. I certainly knew who they were. Who didn't know who Muse were? He got points for the band t-shirt. Jace's arms were bare and I saw tattoos. Unfortunately I didn't get the chance to look any closer. "You look nothing like your 'brother,'" he told me coldly. "You look like a silly little girl in that dress, and you're not fooling anyone with those heels Short Arse."

With a scowl I nod to the muffins in my hands. "No muffin for you, dick."

There was a shout from the other room. "Hey! Stop bothering my little sister and get in here now."

A flash of surprise crosses Jace's face as he looks closer at me. "Hmm. Whatever. Give-" he nods to the muffin box in my hands. "I'm starving."

I clutch them closer to my chest. "Don't care how famous you are, you don't deserve a muffin. Not nice meeting you." I push past him and walk into the room where my brother is settling down before a table with two others. Ah, Isabelle and Alec Lightwood.

Isabelle looks perfect. Like her pictures. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, falling onto her bare shoulder in waves. Damn she has midnight stilettos on too. Next to her was her elder brother Alec. Wearing a dark blue t-shirt, it made his eyes seem like chips of sapphire. They were fixed upon me, frowning lightly. Before them was a man I knew to be Gary Ashby, the Elements radio host. Jonathan chuckles at their confusement. "Yeah Iz she's my sister." He nods to a chair set next to him. "Sit here. Just stay quiet okay? It's live."

I nod and take the seat next to him, ignoring the stares of the Lightwoods. But unlike Jace, they say nothing unkind. It's because of that that I raise the box. "I bought muffins. White chocolate and blueberry."

Alec's eyes widen. "Oh man. I like your sister Jon." I can't help but grin at that as I set it down on the table. Isabelle whines quietly. "I can't. I don't want thunder thighs."

"Iz, one muffin isn't going to make you fat," Alec sighs in exasperation. "It's _Taki's_. Can't you see the box?"

Isabelle perks up almost instantly. "What?" she picks the box up, inspecting it between dark blue nails. Then without a word she sets it down and shoves one into her mouth. She looked like a lady, but sure didn't eat like one. Jonathan plucks one out and offers me the last one. "Here."

Thinking about how rude Jace was to me, I smile and happily take it.

When Jace himself walks into the room and reaches into the box, only to find it empty, he looks at us four and growls out "fat bastards."

And then he drags up a chair and sets it down next to me, effectively squashing me between him and my brother. Great. Just great. Sausage sandwich with a Clary in the middle.

Gary looks me over like I'm a bug he wants to squash under his expensive boots. "If you weren't Jonathan's sister we would ask you to leave. Just… say nothing. Yes?."

Jonathan throws an arm around my shoulders. For gods sake my cheeks are on fire. The embarrassment…

I eat half of my muffin in silence, ignoring Jace's glares next to me.

A clatter and I hear a quiet _beep _as they go live.

"Good afternoon New York! Now, as you all know, we have some very special guests here in the studio today. Give a warm round of applause to _The Shadowhunters!_"

Jace laughs beside me, leaning forward a little. "Hey there. So we're here to talk about our _Alicante_tour, which you all know, kicks off next Tuesday."

"And the first show shall be right here in New York, yes?" Gary asks. Jace grins. "That's right. We have a mini concert here tonight though in _Java Jones_. Where it all began. It's free, so first come, first served. Oh, the tour also ends here in New York as well. Two big New York tour dates. You can find the dates on our website. We're traveling all over the states first."

"And then we're off to England" Isabelle chimes in, eyes sparkling. "London first. We're coming to rock the O2 Arena!" she giggles and I'm surprised by how normal they all are. Even more so when Alec chimes in with "Isabelle has this idea in mind where she's going to buy every pair of heels in London that she sees."

"I did not!" She scoffs, slapping his arm lightly. Jonathan sniggers. "Pretty sure you did Izzy. Watch out London- Isabelle's coming for your shoes."

It's like they're a family. No wonder Jonathan preferred spending time with them.

"Don't forget to grab those last minuet tickets and book a place! You don't want to miss this! And now you guys can ask our guests questions." I watched Gary press something on the mic, then look at the laptop screen. "Annnd our first caller?"

The scream answers his words, then the excited words of _"Oh. My. God! I love you guys so much! My name is Amy. Jace… marry me?"_

Jace laughs at that, and when I shoot him a look, he's smirking as if he's used to these kinds of questions. "Sorry sweetheart- I'm spoken for. McDonalds has her claws sunk into me. She and her Big Macs won't let me leave."

Isabelle just groans and Jonathan presses his forehead to the table. I can tell he's trying not to laugh.

"Next caller please?" Gary asked, and from his expression I could tell he felt awkward.

_"Hi there! I'm Susan. Umm… it's a question for Jonathan."_

_Please don't be a threesome comment._

My brother raises his head, saying into his mic "yes?"

_"What made you want to become a musician?"_

Jonathan chuckles, running a hand through his white blond hair. "Well… It was a great number of things. But mainly because the guys that got me into music were so amazing. They taught me to love it. We would practice and practice until our throats were raw in Jace's garage. Our hands bleeding and aching. Music for me isn't just a hobby, or a career… it's an animal. And you have to care for it properly or it'll bite you in the ass and it'll freakin' hurt."

Jace laughed at that. "Jon that makes no sense."

"Course it does Blondie" my brother shot back.

Score one to the Morgenstern.

Next question. _"Isabelle. Does it get lonely being the only girl in the band?"_

Isabelle giggled at that. "No. I don't get lonely."

And then Jonathan spoke. "You won't get lonely this time- my sister's coming on tour with us."

My eyes widened. I opened my mouth to reply but I knew I couldn't. We were bloody live. Jonathan winks at me and I take the opportunity to stomp on his foot in my wedge heels. He groaned quietly, muffling it with his hand. I shot him a sweet, innocent smile.

"Jonathan's talking outta his ass as usual," Jace now laughs. "His sister isn't coming on tour with us. She's small, annoying and would get in the way."

My eyes narrow. Fuck staying silent. "Speaking as the sister in question, I wasn't intending on coming."

"Oh she can come" Isabelle chirps up, grinning evilly at Jace. "To many dicks around here. Not enough boobs. I want her to come."

"This one doesn't have no boobs" Jace shot back, eyes flickering to me. I arch a brow. "You mean you've looked?"

Alec grimaced. "Since when did live radio talks become so lewd?"

_Fuck. _My cheeks went scarlet once more. We were live on air.

Thousands of girls would have just… oh.

Shit.

I push away from the table and get up, pausing just long enough to shove the rest of the blueberry and white chocolate muffin into Jace's face. My brother bursts out laughing, and so does Isabelle. Alec just shakes his head, but even he lets out a chuckle. "Keys?" I call to Jonathan and he reaches into his back pocket and tosses them to me. I leave without another look back.

When I seat myself back inside Jonathan's expensive Mustang, I just close my eyes and lean my head back against the headrest. Well, boring Clary was certainly on her way out now.

My phone rings. It reads Simon.

_"What did you-? I mean-! Were you on live air radio? Radio on-"_

He makes no sense. So I end the call. He'd been listening, obviously.

A few minutes later he rings back and I answer, rolling my eyes. "What."

"One question- what did you do to Jace?"

An awkward pause.

"I shoved a muffin in his face. No big deal."

Simon bursts out laughing so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. When he calms down just enough to get the words "muffin… in… face-!" out, I press 'end call' again.

When Jonathan returns, his first words are "that, little sister, was the best thing I've ever witnessed."

I arch a brow and glance over at him. He doesn't look mad. On the contrary, he looks amused. "Jace wants me dead now, huh?"

Jonathan shakes his head, sticking the key into the slot and turning the engine on. "Nah. I think he's in shock more than anything. Someone finally took him down a notch. I think you wounded his pride. The feelings new to him. He's used to every girl he meets falling at his feet."

"Yeah… forget me coming on tour with you now." I felt disappointed. Like… really? Jeez.

My brother just stared. "Forget it? Hell Clary- Izzy _wants _you to come. Even Alec likes you. I think. Besides… it'll be fun! Come hang with your big brother."

"Jace hates me."

"Oh ignore Jace. He'll warm up to you soon enough. He's a prickly little hedgehog."

The mental image of Jace with spikes on his back like a hedgehog came to mind and I couldn't help but laugh. "I'll think about it."

Jonathan revved the engine. "Better start now. After _Java Jones _tonight, we're off."

Wait. "You're leaving tonight? When will you be back?"

He shrugged. "Ages away. Months. This is a proper tour, Clary. You won't be able to come home for a while."

I frowned at him. "So what are you saying then?"

Jonathan slips his sunglasses back before his eyes. "I'm saying that the band is leaving tonight after the show. It's like… a farewell gig. A send off thing."

Ah.

That sounded… annoying. Having to make my choice so quickly.

And I couldn't ask Simon. If I asked Simon, I knew what his exact words would be. _'You can go on tour with The Shadowhunters? Whoa! Go! You have to go! I'll set up a Twitter account for you and you can post pictures!'_

He was always on about making a Twitter account. Sounded like some bird website. As in porn.

Tonight was the deadline, I guess.

"I have a magazine interview next," Jonathan told me. "I'll drop you off around the corner and you can go shopping."

"Only if you let me have your card."

Jonathan rolled his eyes, turning onto the next road. "You dare go insane again and buy all those comics and I swear I'll use them as firewood."

He would as well.

I quickly typed Simon a message. _Meet me at Java Jones ASAP._

"Jon, can you drop me at Java instead? Simon wants to meet up."

Jonathan waggled his brows. "Have you finally admitted you love him?"

"Jonathan, if you say that again, I will-"

"Okay okay! I know. Relax. Just saying… that boy fancies you."

"Whatever. Just drop me off there. I'll see you at home before the concert… thing."

I still nabbed his wallet and took a few notes out when he wasn't looking. Lunch was on my brother.

**-review! :D**


	3. Shadows

**And chapter three! Thanks for the lovely reviews. Drop me some more? Thank you! x**

* * *

Simon stares as if I've just agreed to become surrogate mother for a t-rex.

"I need a moment," he says weakly, raising his cup of coffee to his lips. When he lowers it, he explodes. "Clary you are _going okay?_"

So much for talking rationally together.

I roll my eyes. "Simon. I won't be able to come home for months. I haven't even seen mom or dad yet to tell them about this."

"You're an adult, Clary. You are a strong, independent ginger."

Simon's just asking for a slap. "I have no business going with them though." And it's true. My brother was making it sound like endless days of fun. I knew it wouldn't be like that. Especially with Jace Herondale there. Urgh.

"No business? You're Jonathan's sister. His family. You have every right to go. Just…" Simon whines. He sounds like a damn child. "Clary, what you're unsure about, I would sell my balls for. I just… I would whore myself out for something like this."

Oh. Gross. "No one would pay to have sex with you Simon."

He shoots me a glare at that. "Thanks (!) you know, to some people I am very attractive."

Keep dreaming Simon. Keep dreaming.

"But really," I ask with a sigh. "Do I stay or go?"

Simon says nothing for a moment, then groans. "Clary it's up to you. This is your family, not mine."

I stare down at my frappe. Suddenly, it didn't look so appetizing anymore. I push it towards Simon but he doesn't touch it.

"How about you think of tonight as a trial night, huh?" Simon suggests now. "You can pack your bags and put them on the bus, then make your mind up if you wanna go or not. Haven't you been to one of their shows?"

I shake my head. "It's going to be too loud. I won't like it."

Simon cocks a brow. "Of course it's going to be too loud, Clary. That's what concerts are all about. When you go to tonight's, imagine that… but a hundred times bigger. A hundred times louder with the music pounding into you."

"Sounds like sex."

"Better than sex, I assure you."

Now it was my turn to stare- Simon wasn't a virgin?

His cheeks were scarlet. "I'm eighteen, Clary. I-I'm not a virgin."

"When-?"

"A few months back." Simon clears his throat. "After our third gig at _Taki's._ This, uh, girl. She just kinda kissed me out of the blue when I was at the bar and um… I was drunk and ah, I found myself-"

"Please Simon. Stop please." Oh god this was so embarrassing. Simon jumps at the chance to shut up. "So uh yeah try tonight. Please? I so wanna say that I know you when they see your pictures."

All I could do was sigh; Simon was impossible.

I grab my frappe back from across the table. "I'll see you tonight then."

Simon doesn't get the chance to reply when I next to run out.

* * *

No one recognizes me as I catch the bus back home, which is a relief.

When I get home, Jonathan isn't back yet. But mom is. She's in her art room at the back of the house, dressed in old sweats and her dark auburn hair is pulled up into a messy knot with a paintbrush through it.

"Hey Clary" she smiles when she sees me walk in. "Watch the leopard. He's still drying." To my left there's a canvas even bigger than me with a snow leopard painting on. The eyes are too real. They're glaring at me.

"Lost something?" I ask as she lifts another pallet from her paint stained desk with a frown. Mom nods. "Yes. I've lost my ultra thin tipped blue brush."

My eyes flicker to her hair. "I wonder where you could have put it (!)"

As she carries on searching, I take pity and clear my throat, pointing to her hair. Mom frowns, but then it dawns on her and her hand shoots up, fingers closing around the brush. As she pulls it out, her wild hair tumbles from its knot, hanging around her face. She looks cheerful- the anniversary dinner with dad must have gone well.

"Jonathan's back isn't he?" mom asks now. I nod. "Yeah, last night. But he's leaving again tonight."

Mom pauses as she reaches for her cup of now cold tea. "Yeah," she says sadly. "That sounds like him. He never wants to stay here."

_Not since you spread your legs, no._

"Well you know Jonathan," I tell her, dodging a pile of newspapers that are sticky with paint upon the floor. "He's busy with his band."

"Yes. His tour. I almost forgot." Mom rakes a hand through her hair, causing me to groan internally- she was never going to get that yellow paint out. It looked oil-based. Her dark green eyes are so tired when I look closer. Maybe last night hadn't gone as well as I'd thought. "I was going to come to the New York one, but I'm too busy. Plus your father… he had to leave this morning." She rolls her eyes. "London."

Ah. My mother was painting because she was frustrated and sad. That happened quite often.

"Why didn't you go with him?" I ask. Wrong question. Mom laughs harshly, knocking over a pallet onto the floor. The dark maroon stains the cream linoleum. We'd replaced the carpet purely from how often we had to clean it.

"We'd tear each other apart," mom tells me. "He never even met my eyes last night at dinner. All this time and he still hates me."

_You did cheat on him. Were you expecting a proud man like him to just welcome you back with open arms?_

"Maybe you need more bonding time."

Mom rolls her eyes. "We did that last night. Wasn't feeling the magic."

Oh.

Ew.

_Parent sex._

"So what. Are you both going to get a divorce or what?"

I half expect mom to explode, but she doesn't. Instead, she sighs wearily. "I honestly don't know Clary. Things suck, basically." Her expression suddenly brightened. "But I'm working from home now. Which means… it's just us two! I can show you those apprenticeship forms and I can teach you. And you even get paid for it. We can start tonight."

Aw crap.

"Mom," I start slowly. "I'm going to Jonathan's concert tonight at _Java Jones._"

"Oh! That's okay. We can do it tomorrow."

"And I might be leaving tonight with him and the rest of the band" I finish weakly.

Moms face falls. "Oh," she mutters. "That's okay. We can do it when you get back."

"Mom-"

"I think it's nice that you're spending time with your brother. It's not often you both get the chance. I-"

"Mom-"

She bursts out crying. And I just stare, wondering what the hell to do. This wasn't mom at all. She sniffs, rubbing her eyes on a clean bit of shirt. "Sorry," mom mutters. "I'm just stressed. I know I'm a terrible mother."

I just sigh and tug her into my arms, muttering into her ear "you're not a terrible mother. Just busy. And me and Jonathan are both adults, so don't beat yourself up. Our family has been through a lot."

Mom nods, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I love you so much Clary," she sighs now, rubbing my back a little. "Have fun with your brother. And tell him I'll be at his last show here."

"I never said I was going. Just that I might."

Mom pulls away, placing her hands atop my shoulders. Her eyes are rimmed red, but not so bad anymore. "No offense sweetheart, but you need to get out more."

God, not my mother too.

"Yeah but-" I'm silenced as she presses a finger to my lips. "Just… go pack. Or whatever you need to do. I'll phone you when you're on the road and tell your father what's happening."

Now that surprised the heck outta me. Mom was overprotective. Overprotective on a 'no don't go around the corner to the shop because people might kidnap you' level. But then, she left me for weeks and never complained.

Maybe she was losing her marbles.

Or she'd lost them already. That made more sense.

"If you need money, just call okay?" mom continues. "It's about time you started spending it. Goodness, you're the opposite of Jonathan. You spend nothing, and he spends everything."

I slip out of the room while her back's turned. She could talk the hind legs off a donkey at times.

* * *

I pack my suitcase, but end up tipping it all out by the end. What would I even need? Two more times and I buckle it shut, sitting down atop it.

There- no more messing around. Bag was packed.

Looked like I really was off on tour with my brother. Bloody hell.

When Jonathan comes home, he has only half an hour until he has to leave. Cutting it very, very fine. He almost knocks me over as he comes flying through the house, yanking his shirt off and kicking his jeans off as well.

So much damn nudity when my brother was around.

While Jonathan ran around like a chicken with his head cut off, I heaved my case downstairs with Alice, the night maid. She insisted that she handle it herself, but I wasn't having any of it.

"You look like an actual female" my brother tells me as he yanks his black boots on. His black shirt with a white tigers face on is tucked in at the back and screwed up. I roll my eyes and yank it out, straightening it. "Would you stop insulting me when I wear dresses?"

"I'm just not used to seeing so much… leg." Jonathan almost falls over as he attempts to lace up his left boot. I grab him just in time, changing the subject. "I shoved my case in the trunk. Mom's giving me some money."

Jonathan stops dead, turning to me with his eyes widening and a grin upon his face. "You're coming? Actually coming?"

Sigh.

"I guess so."

I scream in surprise as Jonathan picks me up in a hug, my feet leaving the ground. I can just about hear the words "it's going to be amazing Clary! You're going to have so much fun!"

Yay. Deep joy.

He sets me back down and runs for the door, calling back "we're not going in my car! I've ordered a taxi to take us!"

Did he ever sit down? Nope. And tonight he was going to be on his feet, rocking the place probably.

It's a dark emerald chiffon dress I'm wearing tonight. A sweetheart neckline and thin straps. Falling to just about my knee, it's hell of a lot revealing than what I'd usually wear. T-shirts and jeans. Even my hair is curled to within an inch of its life. The heels are back upon my feet. Obsidian colored. Ouch. Heels equaled pain.

I yank a small black leather jacket on over my dress, heading outside where I hear a _beep_. Taxi has arrived. Why a taxi though? Didn't Jonathan have someone bringing him to the venue?

And a bright yellow taxi too.

"Jace's escort car broke down," Jonathan tells me as I walk outside into the cool night air. The sun set about half an hour ago and the New York night was alive with electricity. The excitement palpable. "He lives further away, so I said he could have my escort and we'd grab a taxi. We're being dropped off behind _Java Jones _so it doesn't matter what we arrive in."

Oh yeah. Arrive in style.

Jonathan cocks his head as he looks at me in the light of the porch. "You look really nice" he tells me. "Seriously."

I smile weakly. "Thanks. Now… aren't we on some time limit?"

And he's running again.

Mom waves us off, still covered in paint. The taxi driver is a middle aged woman, but she certainly knows who Jonathan is from her infrequent squeaks of excitement. Creepy. At least my brother wasn't into cougars.

Well I hoped not.

Jonathan's on his phone the entire way to the venue. Texting away with his fingers a blur. When we get dropped off behind the place, I just stare at the tour bus with my case next to me.

It's hard not to miss.

Massive. The thing is _massive. _Pure black with _The Shadowhunters _written on the side in elaborate cursive white letters.

"Our driver will put it on, don't worry. Just stick it next to the steps and knock. He'll pull it inside. Just knock then come in with me" Jonathan calls, adjusting the collar of his t-shirt. I blink and nod, heaving the case over while trying not to trip over my heels.

And I do trip over them. Trip spectacularly.

Thank god for my brother catching me by his arms and pulling me back onto my feet. I groan. "Why did I put heels on?"

_"Because you're so insanely small. Makes you hard to see."_

That wasn't my brother's voice. I pull away, turning with my eyes narrowing. "Do you just randomly grab girls you don't know?"

Jace cocks a brow. His hair is a bird's nest today. And it suits him, the dick. "Fine. Care to replay? I'll let you drop this time."

I groan and push past him, heading towards the back door of _Java Jones. _Dark maroon paint was peeling from it. As I open it, a hand shoots out behind me, shutting it once more. "You made a fool of me on live radio Miss. Morgenstern. But then I have to thank you- it worked in my favor."

"Come again?" I turn around to face him, my eyes narrowing. Jace cocks his head a little, raising his other hand. Suddenly I'm trapped between his arms with my back against the peeling door. Too close for comfort. I wonder if I can knee him in the nuts before he stops me. He looks fast.

Jace leans closer until his lips are very nearly at my ear. He smells good. Like dark chocolate. Dangerous.

Shame he was such a dick that liked to invade my personal space.

"Your little muffin plus face stunt doubled the amount of listeners yesterday on Elements" Jace tells me, raising a hand to a stray curl lying against my cheek. I slap his hand away with a glare. "Don't touch me, creep."

Jace chuckles. The light above the back door switches on and I see amusement twinkling in his eyes. Dark amusement. "We got off to a bad start, didn't we?" he lowers his arms, but then raises a hand. "Jace Herondale. Rockstar."

I stare at his hand but don't take it, replying coolly. "Clary Morgenstern. Rockstar ass-kicker."

The door opens behind me before Jace can reply and Isabelle stands there. She surveys the scene with an eyebrow arched. "Don't you dare Jace" is all she says, voice surprisingly dangerous. "Don't… you dare. Inside. _Now._"

Jace shrugs, saying nothing as he wanders inside past his band mate. Isabelle looks troubled. "Sorry," she groans. "Jace can be… hard to handle at times. Actually all the time." She twirls a lock of dark curled hair around a finger, her smoky eyes worried. But then it's gone as she grins at me. "You look beautiful Clary. And is that your case I spy by the bus-?"

"Thank you." And I actually mean it. "And yeah, it is. Mom convinced me that I should come."

Isabelle squeals like a happy two year old. It's rather amusing to watch. Then she grabs my hand and tugs me inside.

I can hear the crowd already. _Java Jones _is small. Only about fifty people have actually managed to get here early enough to get in. Isabelle directs me to the VIP seats at the front.

VIP. How posh.

As I take a seat in one of the squishy red leather armchairs, the babble behind reaches an earsplitting volume. Mostly girls. No one is sitting down. They're all stood up, craning their necks for a glimpse at the band. Isabelle's vanished behind the stage somewhere.

A glass of Jack Daniel's and Coke sets itself down next to me and I look up in alarm, only to sigh in relief at the sight of Simon. He seats himself next to me, yelling over the noise "it's busy! Took me ages to get through!"

Oh the JD and Coke is for me.

I pick it up at the exact same time the lights go down. The screaming behind me gets even louder._ How._

Jace comes on first and I grimace, not bothering to cheer. I wouldn't cheer for _him._

When Jonathan comes on, I stand up and scream like the girls behind me. My brother shoots me an amused grin, his guitar in his hand and strap slung over his shoulder.

Isabelle looks so amazing in black leather shorts and thigh high leather boots. Oh top she wears a plain bright red vest.

She looks like a spitfire. Red hot.

Simon next to me is drooling. Oh lovely (!)

The first song starts up. It's heavy and assaults my ears instantly. Jace is the first to knock out a tune on his guitar, my brother close behind. Simon's tugging at my arm but I ignore him. The music pounds though me, beating my heart for me. _Bang bang bang._ A heart of its own.

And then Jace starts to sing

_I've danced with a thousand angels_

_Made every one of them fall_

Yeah, I was pretty sure Jace had written this song. The meaning behind the first few lines is enough to make me want to wrinkle my nose up in disgust.

My brother whips his hair. And quite literally. So that was why he had grown it out a little longer than usual. He was damn good with a guitar. Always had been.

When the first song ends, I get up and wander to the bar, buying another drink. It was loud. Hell it was really loud in here. Plus the girls were literally screaming in my ear.

It felt claustrophobic. Even more so when a girl bangs into my shoulder, very nearly knocking the drink from my hand. For gods sake-!

The night air is cool as I step outside. A guy my age is stood with his back to me. From the trail of smoke, I can tell he's smoking.

I wander over to the tour bus- its open. Without hesitation, I grab a hold of the railing and hoist myself up the stairs.

I'm surprised by how big the place is. As soon as you walk in, there's a line of wide black leather sofas on either side. Just enough for about six people. The walls are white. It's very _chiaroscuro. _There's even a massive flatscreen on the wall between the windows.

Past the sofas there's a small cooker and microwave. Plus a coffee maker on the side next to it, a kettle too. There's a fridge underneath.

A few more steps and there was a sliding door in obsidian black. Oh! A dining room and just past that, the toilet and a shower.

The stairs are right next to it. Stairs? It had two floors? Wow. It was that dark outside I hadn't noticed.

At the top of the stairs, there's a long narrow corridor. Along it are doors with names on. One said Jace, another Jonathan. Ah. Bedrooms. There's only four. Which basically meant I was going to sleep on the sofa. At least they were massive and comfortable looking.

And where was my case?

_"Hey! Who are you? What are you doing up here?"_

The voice behind me makes me jump. When I turn, I see a young man with black hair spiked up in every direction, the ends colored… purple? He's wearing a purple suit too. His shoes are black.

Bizarre. So bizarre.

And then he cocks his head. "Are you Jonathan's sister? Clarissa?"

I just nod. The man relaxes. "That's a relief. I didn't fancy tossing you out in those heels. Break your neck on the stairs."

"Who are you?" the man has contacts in. Freaky ones too. They're golden mixed with green with slits. Like a cats. Mixed with his tanned skin and insane clothes, I was weary.

"Magnus Bane," he tells me instantly, swelling up as if offended. "How can you not know who _I _am?"

I just stare. I have no idea. He tuts. "The boys are mine. Well and Isabelle. Who do you think signed them up for a label, plus an album? Hmm? _Moi._"

_Oh. He was their agent. Manager… whatever._

"Pleasure to meet you" I smile, holding out my hand. He takes it for a second before nodding towards the end of the bus. "Through the end door, there's a main sitting area. Bit smaller than the one downstairs. But Jonathan had them take a sofa out and replace it with a bed for you."

That was… sweet of him. "I was worried about sleeping on the sofa."

Magnus's intriguing eyes widen. "On the sofa? Sleep? Not on this bus! Not on my watch!"

"You're coming along?"

"Me? Heaven's no. I couldn't live on this bus for more than an hour. Too cramped for my liking. No, I'll see you at some venues. I like to keep an eye on my boys." A pause and he hurriedly added "and girl. Can't forget Alexander's sister. Your case is in the room already." He wrinkles up his nose. "I must be off now Cleary."

"Clary."

"Good evening. Please don't wreck the bus. That's usually your brother and Jace's job."

And then he turns around and leaves.

Strange man.

* * *

Simon scowls at me when I finally return after checking my room out. It was plain with a single window. But the bed was sure comfy with white covers and pillows.

"It's almost over" he complains loudly in my ear. "Where the hell did you go?"

"Checking out the tour bus" I yell over the din. Jace is screaming. Literally. I bet he made some noise in bed.

_Whoa there Clary. Stop right there._

I give up on trying to talk to Simon as the screeches of the guitar and crashes of the drums shatter the air around us. The finale. When it ends, everyone is screaming and applauding.

And I'm with them. I'm stood up, clapping and screaming my approval. Well, not at Jace. He was a god on the stage from what little I'd seen of him. A god to the others, but not to me.

Jonathan had been amazing though. If he was this good on the small stage, how amazing would he be on a massive one with thousands of people before him-? I suddenly feel guilty about the fact I'd never gone and watched him perform before now.

He steps down off the stage now, setting his guitar down as he walks over to me. His white blond hair is hanging in his eyes from sweat. "So" he asks me. "You like?"

I nod. "I love. When's the next show?"

Jonathan chuckles, throwing an arm around my shoulder. The rest of the band disperses backstage. There are girls calling for Jonathan to come over, but he ignores them. He leads me backstage with an arm still around my shoulder.

I feel like… I _belong. _

Truly belong.

Jace isn't backstage in the small room. Alec is massaging his wrists, muttering "those new sticks are killers. But they don't half tear up your wrist."

Isabelle groans, turning to her brother. "Why don't you use your old ones for the tour? The last thing we need is you spraining your wrist and unable to play."

He nods, agreeing with a sigh. "Shame. Total shame…" he frowns now. "Where's Jace?"

The girl groans. "Give you three guesses."

Alec just glares at nothing in particular. I was really missing something here.

There was a yell from outside and Alec was up in a flash. Isabelle swore to herself before following her brother, me close behind, totally confused.

The backdoor of _Java Jones _is open and I can see around Isabelle's shoulder that Jace is pinned up against a wall by his throat. The one holding him there is a thickset man with close cropped black hair. He's snarling into Jace's face. "I don't give a flying _fuck _how famous you are. I've half a mind to break your fucking neck right now!"

Alec grabbed a hold of the mans arm. "I'm really sorry for Jace. Whatever he's done."

"What he's done?" the man laughed darkly. "He had my girl up against the wall. A hand up her fucking dress! Lips all… over her!"

I notice a young woman stood a little way away, her arms wrapped around herself. She looks more than embarrassed.

Oh god. Stupid Jace. Coming onto a taken woman.

Alec's talking to the man. His voice is so quiet I can't pick up on his words. But the man lets Jace go and leaves, grabbing the girl's arm as he does so.

And Alec punches Jace straight in the face. Isabelle launches herself forwards, yelling "Alec don't-!"

"I don't care!" Alec just snarls in Jace's direction, attempting to pull away from his sister. But she doesn't let go. "You know what you're doing Jace. Don't try to deny it."

Jace has a hand over his cheek. And then he flexes his jaw, sighing out "nope."

"You little-!" Alec hisses, starting forward once more but Jonathan grabs him by his wrists, tugging him back. He's considerably stronger than Isabelle. "Pack up or whatever" he tells Alec. "I'll go talk to him." He lets the blue eyed boy go and stalks over to Jace, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and literally yanking him along with him. When they vanish into the darkness, I turn to Isabelle and Alec. Alec's gone back inside, but Isabelle stands there looking miserable. As soon as she sees me looking, however, her expression seems to change to one of awkwardness.

"Is… Jace okay?" I found myself asking. Isabelle nods, knowing that I didn't mean a flesh injury. Jace didn't seem… right. He was cold. Uncaring. Hell, he'd grabbed that girl and was… ew.

"Jace just… forgets himself at times. It's like there's another voice inside his head." She pauses. "Since you're going to be traveling with us, I think you should know to a certain extent what's wrong with him."

"What do you mean 'wrong with him?'"

Isabelle smiles sadly. "When Jace was younger, just a child, he saw something. And basically, it messed him up. Badly. Sometimes he can be the normal, fun Jace he's always been. But then, at odd moments like now, this darker side of him just takes over. He's not the same person. Alec gets frustrated because he thinks Jace is acting at times. Like… just for attention."

"What did he see?" I ask cautiously. Isabelle closes her eyes lightly. "He saw his parents get murdered. And had to stay hidden next to their bodies for hours… when he was found, he was drenched head to toe in their blood."

Jesus. No wonder he'd been damaged so much. Poor bastard.

"Just…" Isabelle starts slowly, quietly. "Watch yourself around Jace. He wouldn't hurt anyone unless they provoked him first, but I wouldn't risk it. He denies there's anything wrong with him, of course."

"Why does he do all this then?" I ask in surprise. "The band?"

"Because it keeps him busy" Isabelle shrugs. "So he doesn't think about it." She turns around and walks off back inside.

And I was left stood there wondering what the hell I'd walked into.

**-Review :D**


	4. Crashing

**Hi guys! Finally got chance to update this. Whew. Right, got something to say. Well add- this is gonna be more adult than my other fics due to drugs, drink and Jace's frame of mind in general. Plus some sexual themes. Nothing very explicit, don't worry. Anyway! Boring stuff aside, thank you so much for the lovely reviews! Here's the next chapter and I hope you like it! Jk, don't kill me for this chapter. Drop more reviews? Thanks! x**

* * *

It takes another hour before we can leave. The band are signing t-shirts and pictures. I even see Jace sign a young woman's chest, grinning cheekily at her. Urgh. Disgusting.

But I can't keep my eyes off him from my perch from the window of the tour bus. He's great with the fans, taking selfies with them and talking to them. I once spy him kiss a girl who can't be any older than twelve on the cheek. I can't hear anything, but she looks like she's giggling.

This was probably a show for the fans. Behind the scenes, urgh. Horrible. He was sounding more and more like a sex addict.

Jonathan is the first back. He collapses onto the sofa, groaning lightly. "Man, am I beat."

"You have to do this on a much larger scale tomorrow" I remind him. Jonathan lifts his head, grinning at me. "Fantastic" he just says before collapsing back down.

When Isabelle walks back in, she carries right on through to her bedroom. Jonathan sniggers from his place on the sofa. Am I missing something?

"Someone tried to cop a feel" Jonathan explains. "She punched him. Thankfully no one got it on camera or video. But everyone knows not to mess with Izzy. It's their fault."

The door slams above us at the exact same time Alec walks in, literally dragging Jace along with him.

"You're so boring," Jace whines, yanking his arm away. "Isn't this supposed to be a perk of being famous? The girls? Jeez."

Alec rounds on him, sapphire eyes narrowing. "No Jace. Not this tour, I mean it. We've only just gotten you back on the straight and narrow."

The blond haired boy looks sour. He pulls out his mobile, golden eyes flickering down as he types something in. "I'm not a child, Alec. Do I look like one?"

"Yeah," Alec retorts. "You look like a massive fucking baby."

Jace stops texting, looking up at Alec with a scowl. "Fuck off" he snaps at him. Alec shrugs, saying bitterly "you're the reason this band will fall apart eventually."

_"Hey- enough." _Jonathan sits up, his face a light frown. "We're not doing this on the night before the tour even _begins. _Bloody hell." He looks to Jace, cocking a brow. "But really Jace, don't start messing around. Again. Oui? Ja? Yes?"

Jace rolls his eyes. "It's like you're all babysitting me-" he nods to me, eyes narrowing. "And like you're determined to embarrass me in front of the child."

"Now who's acting like a child" I tell him sweetly. Jace stomps into the kitchen, grabs something out of the fridge and vanishes upstairs. Alec follows him.

"Ignore Jace" my brother yawns. "He's still recovering."

Recovering? "From what?" I lower my voice. "What happened to him as a kid?"

Jonathan freezes up. He sits up and stares at me, a lock of white blond hair hanging in his eyes. "Where the fuck did you hear about that?"

"Isabelle told me." Was this a giant secret? Jonathan gazes unblinkingly for a start, but then nods, lying back down. "Yeah, basically," he tells me. "Jace has been right at the bottom, Clary. Trust me. But he's making his way back to the top now. And I don't mean with the music, I mean his frame of mind."

I take a seat next to him. "So what, like drugs? Drink?"

"Both really," my brother muses. "But mainly women. He has a weakness for women."

Yeah. I'd been right. Eurgh.

"Won't he be pissed off you've all told me this?"

Jonathan barks a laugh. "We're all living together. You'd find out soon enough. Better to know before you see the worst of him than after."

Jace… kinda scares me. My brother was making him out to be a cracked out druggie with an alcohol problem. Plus he couldn't keep his dick in his pants.

Maybe I should have bought a chastity belt just in case.

"But like I said, he's getting better. He's almost his old self." Jonathan yawns again. "He's not that bad, I assure you. He's my best friend, Clary. And I wouldn't have let you come if I thought he would pose a danger to you in the slightest."

I bob my head up and down like a nodding dog, playing with the ring upon my finger. Jace did make me feel nervous though, I had to admit. Even more now I knew all this.

They say ignorance is bliss.

Jonathan yawns again, loudly this time. I can't help but laugh. "You should go to bed. Big day tomorrow.'

My brother sighs, raising a hand and resting it across his forehead. "Eh, I should. But it's only ten. Boring."

There's a knock on the bus door. Jonathan sits up as the guard pokes his head in. "There's a boy here saying he's Simon Lewis, and he's Miss. Morgenstern's friend? Is he telling the truth?"

I stand up. "Oh. Yeah he's my friend. Let him in."

When Simon walks in, he very nearly moans at the sight of the interior of the tour bus. He laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair. "Jeez, nice place."

"Yes?" Jonathan asks, sounding grumpy. When he's tired he gets like this. He never changes. Simon smiles at him. "Nice gig tonight. You rocked the place."

_"Finally!"_

Isabelle steps off the bottom of the stairs, walking down towards the room where we are. She's dressed in a silky dressing gown that's maroon red, her hair braided back away from her face. She looks more than striking.

Simon goes as red as the dressing gown. Isabelle arches a perfect brow. "Well? Where's the pizza? I ordered it fifteen minutes ago."

It's hilarious how Simon is stood there staring at her as if he's faced with a real life Greek goddess. He finally comes back to life as he splutters out "I-I'm not the pizza man. I'm Clary's friend."

"Oh," Isabelle frowns. "You just look like a pizza man. Must be the glasses, they give you that delivery boy edge."

I can't tell if it's an insult or compliment, but Simon's face is going every shade of the rainbow possible. "Thank you?" he finally manages to get out. Oh god, please stop there.

He doesn't.

"You looked amazing on stage" Simon now tells her. Isabelle says nothing, she just watches as the train wreck that is my best friend continues. "The color really suited you. And you hit the pitches so perfectly. You should try singing ballad songs; your voice would be perfect. Say… Sara Barielles? Or a version of 30 Seconds To Mars's song City of Angels?"

Jonathan out of the corner of my eye rolls his eyes. A moment later he says loudly "Lewis! Why did you want to talk to Clary?"

Simon's cheeks are ruby red as he looks to me. Isabelle is giggling quietly, but I don't think Simon can see nor hear. Otherwise he'd be on the floor half dead. There are fanboys. And then there is Simon. If there's a Shadowhunter fanboy bigger than him, give him a medal.

"I came to tell her I made her a Twitter account," Simon says now. "And she left her phone on the table when she went to talk to you all backstage-" he holds out my phone and I take it with a smile. But for god's sake, not the Twitter crap again.

"You are insane" Isabelle laughs, but not unkindly. It's as if she's enjoying herself. "But ah, let me see-" she plucks the phone from my hand before I can say a word. She scrolls through it until she finds what she's looking for. And then she bursts out laughing. "You-! You made her username _ClaryRawr!_"

Simon goes purple, muttering out "there's nothing wrong with that."

Isabelle is still laughing as she hands me my phone back. "Oh? And what's yours then? _LuLuLewis?_"

Silence and Simon mutters out "_KillerHedgehogs."_

Oh sweet baby hedgehogs everywhere.

Isabelle looks intrigued. "Wh-why?"

"My… uh, my band used to be called that" Simon tells her. Pretty sure he wants to melt into the floor right now.

"You have a band?" Isabelle blinks, tying her dressing gown more around her. "Are you any good?"

"They're terrible Izzy," Jonathan scoffs. "They're the ones that rehearse in my house, remember?"

Something dawns on Isabelle and she asks my brother "Sir Screechy?"

Great. They've been laughing about Simon's band behind his back. I ignore them, turning to Simon. "We're off in a moment, so I'll call you when we stop again."

"You have Twitter too" Simon tells me weakly. "I told everyone to follow you."

_Simon and his freaking Twitter addiction-!_

"Fine, okay. Just… I'll see you soon." Simon tugs me into his arms, hugging me close. "I'll see you soon" he mutters into my ear. "And when you come back, I want to tell you something."

I roll my eyes. "Why don't you tell me now?"

"Because it's a surprise, duh." Simon pats my back. "Have fun. Don't forget to ring and take photos! Lots of photos."

"Of course" I assure him.

* * *

When we roll off, everyone crashes into bed. Jonathan doesn't complain when I slip into bed with him, snuggling into his chest as if we are children again. The prospect of spending my first night alone on this bus… scary. He switches on the portable lamp set above us on.

"Chill" my brother tells me as he yanks the covers over us both. "You're making _me _nervous."

"Sorry." I am nervous. This was so far out of my comfort zone we were reaching Narnia.

Jonathan pulls his phone out. The next moment, he has a video app open and is speaking. "This is my sister Clary. Say hi Clary."

I blink and splutter out to the camera "hi?"

Jonathan grins and lowers it back down, tapping away at his screen. "There we go," he tells me conversationally. "Everyone who follows me on Twitter saw that."

"And how many follow you?" can't be more than a few hundred right?

"Uhh… about one million now."

I choke at that. "Jonathan how-?"

"We're very popular. Even you should know that."

A weak laugh. "Yes, but not that much. This is insane… how much privacy do you actually get?"

Jonathan yawns, tugging the covers up to his chin with one hand while the other shoves his phone under his checkered black and white pillow. It's so squishy. "Actually, you'd be surprised. But yeah you get crazy tabloids stalking you sometimes. Plus the fans. It depends where we are, really. The London stalkers are the best. They bring us chocolate."

His life sounds insane. Maybe it is.

* * *

Jonathan is gone when I wake up. The bus has stopped moving and the sun has barely risen above the New York skyline. I steal my brother's dark blue emerald dressing gown and tie it around me, venturing down to the rest of the bus.

No one is there. The bus is deserted. When I reach the fridge, there's a note taped to it

_Gone to get breakfast with Izzy and Alec. Back later – Jon_

If they don't bring me any breakfast back I'll shoot them.

There's a groan from the living room area, startling me. When I poke my head around the corner, there's a figure lying upon the black leather. Well, specifically, there's a naked figure lying upon the black leather.

Jace.

He's lying on his stomach, not a scrap of clothing upon him. Oh god, my eyes. They burn. My nose wrinkles up as I shrug my stolen dressing gown back off, deliberately looking away as I go to drape it over his ass. Thank god I have shorts and a t-shirt on.

But before I let go, I pause. Not because of his ass, which, sadly, is pretty nice and perky, but because of his back.

Jace's back is an explosion of tattoo designs, but no color. All stark black. Jonathan told me that Jace had wings tattooed on his back like himself. And he did; it was bigger than Jonathan's, covering his entire back. But where my brother's were tribal, his wasn't. Instead it was feathered, the very tips of the wings ending about his hips. His right shoulder was covered in tribal patterns that formed a bird, its wings swirling around its body. At the back of his neck, the angelic power symbol was tattooed there, stark black against his tan skin. Under that, there was a crest that reminded me of Jonathan's own Morgenstern one. This was the Herondale crest.

The tattoos made Jace look so beautiful. But dangerous too.

I don't hesitate in tossing the dressing gown over him as he starts to turn onto his back. Dear god his ass was enough. Jace is hot, I'd be a fool to deny that, but he was also nine kinds of messed up.

That same Jace suddenly sits up, making me scream from surprise. He's a golden flash as he streaks for the bathroom, the dressing gown dumped upon the floor. The sound of throwing up emanates from the bathroom and I groan. Oh gross.

I contemplate heading back up to my room and get changed out of pajamas into jeans, but when Jace groans loudly, I roll my eyes and pick up the dressing gown, walking towards the bathroom. The door is open a crack when I get there. A knock and I ask "do you want anything?"

Jace says nothing for a start, then moans out "water. Painkillers…" I roll my eyes and shove the dressing gown into the bathroom, not glancing once inside. "Where are they?"

"On… the side. On top of the microwave." Jace's voice cracks at the end. A light sigh and I wander into the kitchen, spying the stainless steel microwave. There's a little plastic bottle of painkillers perched atop it. After snagging a glass off the draining board I fill it with water.

Why am I even bothering with Jace? He's done this to himself. No one has forced him to drink extensively. Whatever's making him puke his guts up, it's his own fault.

No one had any sympathy for him as fall as I could tell.

Silently praying he's pulled the dressing gown on, I nudge open the bathroom door.

Nope. Still naked. But at least his back is to me and I can't see anything. Jace is knelt before the toilet, cheek resting against the soft white wall. His eyes are closed. He looks terrible with dark shadows underneath his eyes. I clear my throat, holding out the bottle and glass of water. Jace groans softly, eyes opening a fraction. He takes them both with another groan I hope is Thanks. After setting them down on the floor, he mutters "you can go now."

It's about forty-five minutes until Jace emerges from the bathroom. Thankfully with the dressing gown wrapped around him. His eyes are more alert as he watches me brush my hair from the doorway of my bedroom. I clear my throat. "Yes?"

Jace shrugs, stepping into my bedroom. Maybe he's going to say thanks? "I just wanted to say, if you mention this to Alec or the others, I'll kick you off the bus myself."

Okay. I hadn't been expecting that.

I fold my arms and arch a brow. "I think they already know what kind of mess you are. I've known you less than a week and even I know. You're disgusting Jace Herondale."

A hand grabs my left wrist and yanks me backwards. It hurts. Jace's face is a wide smirk as he muses "I'm disgusting, hmm? Then why did you help me?"

I wrench my wrist away, massaging it lightly. "Because, Herondale, I'm not a bad person. If someone is being sick like that, truly not very well in every way possible, I feel sorry for them. I want to help."

To be honest, I half expect him to snarl and rant about how I shouldn't feel sorry for him. But he doesn't. Instead, he cocks his head a little, raising a hand to touch the underside of my chin briefly. "You're a rare person, Clary," he mutters, meeting my eyes with his golden own. "But like your brother said, you're too timid to hang with us and truly relax."

_Jonathan had said that?_ The little bastard. "I'm not timid."

"Prove it" Jace challenges, eyes sparkling mischievously. "Show me that you're not some silly little girl."

Is he really doing is? Maybe he's still partly drunk. As he steps forward, I dont step back. "Well?" he asks. I scoff and shake my head. "Move Jace. Out of my room."

"Why?" he asks innocently. "Feeling… uncomfortable?"

"Yes. Very."  
"I can't help being this hot. Sorry." He leans down, and I know what he's about to do- kiss me.

But he doesn't get chance as I ram my knee up sharply, catching him straight in-between his legs. Jace drops instantly, face going pale. I move out of the way in case he wants to throw up again.

"Don't try and touch me" I tell him coldly. "I'm not one of your whores. Or some band skank groupie thing. If being boring means being sensible, then fine- I am boring. But I will never pretend to be something I'm not."

Jace pulls himself up into a kneeling position, his forehead pressed against the floor. He's groaning lightly, hands between his legs.

He looks pitiful. Not some rocker.

I roll my eyes and grab his arm, yanking him to his feet. "Come on 'Mr. Incredibly Hot Rocker' get in bed. Sleep off this hangover before the show tonight."

Jace doesn't look at me once as I pull him through the coach until we reach his room. Well, I think it's his. There's a _J_ on the front and it's not Jonathan's room. He weighs a ton leaning against me as I fumble for the door handle, pushing it open. I shove at his back until he starts moving inside.

Jace's room is surprisingly neat for a person like him. It's… creepily neat. The dark gold bed is made with perfect corners, the posters of him and the rest of the band pristine upon the wall. His clothes are hung up on the railing in bags. Jace Herondale is a closet neat freak?

He's still drunk, that I can tell. Before I can push him down onto the bed to make him rest, he ducks down and succeeds in pressing a kiss to my lips, utterly taking me aback. The kiss is hot, hungry and his lips taste like stale drink. He kisses me like a drowning man gasping for air, hands catching hold of my wrists and pinning them to my hips as I try to recoil away. I can't move. Jace moans against my unyielding lips, tightening his hold upon me. It's starting to hurt.

"Get… off me-!" I growl against his lips, wriggling in an attempt to escape. He doesn't budge. Hell, he even presses his hips against my own. And he's no chipolata. A moment later the wall of the room is against my back. The hands that have finally let go were now traveling to the front of my shorts and… _whoa. No._

I bite at his bottom lip, tasting hot salty blood. With a snarl I shove him hard away with my now free hands. He doesn't get a chance to say anything as I slap him clean across the face. No. It wasn't a slap, it was a punch. And it had been hard enough to knock him sideways over the side of the bed.

With a disgusted groan I grab one of Jace's jackets from the rack, rubbing my mouth with a sleeve. And then words explode from me. "_You_ _disgusting piece of-! How dare you?!_"

Jace groans, rising from the floor just enough to collapse onto the bed. He lies on his back, closes his eyes and doesn't move again. And literally. His chest barely moves at all.

Something is… very wrong. Uber wrong.

The anger and hate turns to worry. My heart splutters in fear. "Jace-?" I place a hand atop his shoulder and shake it a few times. He doesn't move.

Oh crap. Oh fuck.

The front door closes downstairs and I yell _"Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern-!"_ as loud as I can. The footsteps pounding up the stairs are imminent, and then he's crashing through the bedroom door with his eyes wide. I never called him that unless I was scared. Very scared. And I needed him.

"Fuck-!" he swears at the sight of Jace, stumbling forward to his friend. I back off as Jonathan leans over him on the bed, patting his cheek none too gently. Jace moans lightly, but he doesn't say anything. His body… it was trembling violently.

"Jonathan-!"

Isabelle appears in the doorway, face paper white as she holds up the little white plastic bottle. The painkillers. Except they are now only a few left.

"How many have you taken?!" my brother snarls at him, shaking his shoulders. "You stupid bastard-! I told you this tour was _such a bad fucking idea-!_"

Isabelle is on the phone, calling 911, sounding frantic as she explains what's happened. Except she didn't know the details that I did.

"Jonathan-" I have to tug him away from Jace in fear he'd hit him. While Alec moved the golden haired boy into the recovery position, I hold my brother back, making him face me. "What happened?" he demands, eyes like black holes. Endless and volatile. There are tears in my eyes as I mutter "I- I don't know. He was hung over and he wanted painkillers so I gave him them-"

"Oh Jesus." Jonathan runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

When the ambulance arrives and takes Jace's form away, all I can do is watch with the tears now dripping onto my cheeks. Jonathan had told me Jace was almost better, not like this. I could still feel his kiss upon my lips. The raw intensity of it. Yet somehow, I could feel loneliness as well.

Jace was one of those people that pushed everyone who cared about him away by making them hate him. He'd been trying to do that to me for sure. Maybe he would have done those unspeakable things against that wall with me, or maybe not. I felt no hate for him. Just sadness. Worry. And pity. How could someone be that miserable and... lost?

_It'll be fun_, Jonathan had said.

How fucking wrong he had been.

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